


Leave (Like the Sane Abandoned Me)

by TimmyJaybird



Series: (I Think That) I was Meant to be Next to You [5]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Phone Sex, Polyamory, Relationship Negotiation, Trans Character, Vaginal Sex, ftm Yoosung, touch starved Seven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 16:30:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8292433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: Seven couldn't let himself want, because wanting felt like betrayal, when he knew Yoosung was committed to his boyfriends, to Seven's own friends.But the simple heat from Yoosung's cheek was enough to leave his mind spiraling. It had been so long since he felt that, felt someone else- and he could hate himself all he wanted for the desire, but that won't make it leave.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am such a multishipper... I wanted some Seven/Yoosung and decided why the hell not put it in my OT3/trans Yoosung verse? (Not that I can think of Yoosung as cis at all at this point).
> 
> I'll get everything into one series sometime soon so at least everyone can see it's tied together.

“We could have watched something with  _ space _ ,” Seven said, tipping his head back. Yoosung glanced up at him, a large open bag of chips cradled between his folded legs.

 

“Then you should have  _ brought _ something with space!” Yoosung gestured towards the television. “I have so many DVDs from this damn series sitting around because Zen has been plowing through them for  _ practice _ , to get a feel for the  _ universe _ it’s all set in for that new role. I feel like I can recite the lines myself now.” He stuffed his hand into the bag of chips Seven had graciously given him, stuffing a handful into his mouth. He mumbled something, and Seven glanced over.

 

“Not with your mouthful, Cinderella.”

 

Yoosung grunted, swallowing and wiping his hand on his jeans. “I shoulda never sent that picture,” he mumbled, looking back at the television. He didn’t really care for these soap opera style dramas- but he hadn’t lied when he said Zen had been forcing him to sit through them it seemed every night. He’d taken a role on one and felt he needed to get a real feel for the atmosphere-

 

Yoosung figured  _ Jumin _ would be better company for that, since he  _ liked _ this sort of thing, even if he was loathe to admit it. But he could quote scenes without any difficulty.

 

“At least the main girl is cute,” Yoosung offered, holding up the chips bag. Seven shook his head, and Yoosung figured it was for the best. They’d already demolished two bags while playing LOLOL, and probably should have called it quits over a bag ago. He tossed it towards the other end of the couch, unfolding just to sprawl his legs up as he leaned against Seven’s shoulder.

 

They hadn’t just  _ hung out _ in what felt like forever. Too much constant drama, too much  _ life _ in general. And Yoosung couldn’t remember ever just… existing like this with him. They played games sure, but usually he was at Seven’s and Seven was multitasking.

 

The fact that he’d convinced him to come cram into his new little apartment was  _ nice _ . It was better than his old dorm- maybe not much more room, but he had a  _ couch _ now. And a job- internship, he figured. But hey, it was  _ paid _ . It just meant time between class and that was thin. And usually spent with one, if not both, of his boyfriends.

 

But this… was nice.

 

Yoosung turned, pressed his cheek to Seven’s shoulder and slung his arm over his waist. It was late now, late enough that he was getting groggy. And Seven was warm- and really, Yoosung would snuggle up with just about anyone.

 

He felt Seven go stuff, however, muscles tensing. There was a little hitch in his breath, but Yoosung figured he’d just surprised him. He ignored it, continuing to watch the television, sighing and thinking that Seven sort of smelled like honey, and he wondered if that just  _ happened _ if he ate enough Honey Buddha chips.

 

But when he fidgeted, squirming a little, Yoosung lifted his head. “You okay?” he asked, before Seven was suddenly pushing him off and standing up.

 

“I have a lot of work to do,” he said in a single, rushed breath. “Codes to write, agencies to hack, worlds to save! Justice never sleeps, after all!” Yoosung furrowed his brow, watched Seven grabbing his laptop case and slinging it over his shoulder, not turning around.

 

“You’re rambling,” Yoosung pointed out, “you do that when you wanna  _ avoid _ something.”

 

Yoosung knew him better now- he figured they  _ all _ did. 

 

But Seven didn’t seem phased. He rushed towards the door, waving as he did so. “It’s been fun, let’s do it again! Numbers one in two in the world of LOLOL! What a team!” Yoosung opened his mouth to say something else, but Seven was already opening the door. “Don’t forget to sleep eventually!”

 

The door slammed shut, and Yoosung simply stared. He blinked, shaking his head, frowning. What the hell had just  _ happened _ ? Why had Seven up and rushed off? Yeah, sure, their entertainment wasn’t  _ great _ but Seven hadn’t but up that much of an argument against it. Hell, Yoosung figured he might even end up with Seven sleeping on his couch, with the way things were going.

 

What the  _ hell _ had he missed?

 

*

 

Seven sped through the streets, the sound of his car shifting usually soothing. But his blood was racing, and even the open streets leading back home did nothing to calm it. His hand shook as he grabbed the gear shift, shifting up again as he shoved his foot down on the gas, picking up even more speed.

 

Yoosung’s cheek had been so warm, he’d felt it through his shirt. His fingers seemed too deft, too knowing as they’d almost curled around his side. Just his weight alone pressing against him made Seven’s vision blur…

 

He swallowed thickly, passing his home and going for a lap around the empty roads. He just needed to clear his head, needed to focus on something else. The purr of the engine and the feel of the leather seats and the smell of tires on pavement. The solidity of the gearshift under his hand.  _ Anything except Yoosung _ .

 

But a few laps in and he was still panting. He shifted down, pulling up to his home and killing the engine. He leaned back, head flopping against the headrest as he closed his eyes. His temples pounded with his pulse, his belly was in knots- and he gripped the gearshift and the steering wheel tighter. He tried to take a steadying breath, but all that came on the exhale was a small whine. Subconsciously, his hips lifted, trying to grind into the air.

 

Resigned, he pulled his shaking hands from his car. They moved to his jeans, made quick work of the button and zipper. The ease in pressure made him sigh, before he was grasping at the waistband of his boxer briefs, easing them down. His cock bumped his hands when it was released, aching and so damn  _ hard _ it was a wonder he wasn’t even more light headed. He swallowed tightly, settling the waistband snug at the base, before he wrapped a single hand around it. The contact was pure bliss, and he moaned, closing his eyes as his hand eased its way up to the head. His fist was loose, just enough to tease his glans and make him shiver.

 

In his mind, it was Yoosung’s hand. In his mind Yoosung was stretched over the center console, teasing him and  _ giggling _ in that way he seemed to do so much now- mischievous and  _ knowing _ that with the right look, he could have any man or woman down on their knees.

 

This part of him that he’d seemed to discover in his time with Jumin and Zen- it was a blessing and a goddamn  _ curse _ .

 

Seven bit at his bottom lip, easing his hand back down, before grasping tighter. His teeth dug tighter into the meat of his lip as his hand began a steady rhythm. He wondered if Yoosung would squirm, if he’d wriggle his hips and breath right into his ear. If he’d be  _ filthy _ and talk him through it, or just pant and tell Seven when he was done he’d have to return the favor…

 

More than any of that, any idea that his mind could conjure up- it was merely the memory of how  _ warm _ he was that had Seven gasping, mouth falling open when he came embarrassingly fast. His hips jerked up, his heels digging into the carpet beneath his feet. He groaned, shaking as his hand continued to work him through it, until his body  _ hurt _ from over stimulation and he had to pull away. He swallowed down a breath, nearly choking-

 

And didn’t dare think about tthe  _ reason _ that such simple touches form Yoosung could work him up so fast. Didn’t dare think about the fact that so few people ever touched him in any way- didn’t dare even try to  _ remember _ the last time someone had been gentle in any sort of way with him.

 

It was better not to remember. Remembering made him  _ want _ , and he knew he couldn’t have. It was risk enough to open up for friendship- but he couldn’t ever have  _ more _ . Even simple satisfaction was a risk he dared not take.

 

*

 

“It was weird,” Yoosung said, dipping his small spoon into his parfett.

 

“It was  _ Seven _ .” Zen didn’t look up from his script, sitting almost across from him. He flipped a page, frowning a little, and Yoosung rolled his eyes.

 

“A different sort of Seven weird. Not the usual. I  _ get _ the usual. This was… I don’t know. Like I was on fire or something.” He stuffed his spoon into his mouth, as Zen hummed and nodded, eyes working over the page. Yoosung frowned more, talking around the spoon. “Look at me.”

 

Zen quirked up his brows, glancing past his script. One look at Yoosung’s pout, spoon still in mouth, and he was chuckling. He set the script down, reaching across the table and pulling the spoon from his mouth, setting it back in his cup. “I’m looking, darling.” Yoosung blushed, and Zen kept his charming smile. “Tell me again what happened. You’ve got all my attention.”

 

He swallowed, almost fidgeting. Zen’s eyes were always too  _ much _ , too gorgeous and felt like they saw every fiber of him, seeped in around his bones and saw the crevices. He toyed with his spoon simply to keep his hands busy. “We were sitting on the couch watching some of the DVDs you left. We’d gamed for  _ hours _ and I was tired so I thought we’d just chill. And I just leaned against him and he freaked out. Honest. I wasn’t like, shoving him off the couch or crawling into his lap. He wouldn’t even look at me and was gone in like, thirty seconds. It was wild.”

 

Zen nodded, resting his chin on his palm, his hair dusting his cheek, strands falling along his neck. “But you  _ were _ snuggled up to him?”

 

“I… I mean… a little?” Yoosung shrugged a shoulder, glancing down at the table. “I mean, I was just using his shoulder as a pillow. I wasn’t… you’re not mad, right?” He hesitated, didn’t look up- but when Zen leaned over, his hand reaching across the table and gently grasping one of Yoosung’s, giving it a squeeze, he finally did.

 

Zen was smiling.

 

“I know who you want to come home to every night,” he teased, his thumb rubbing Yoosung’s knuckles. “I am not mad. Not even jealous.”

 

Maybe once he would have been. But they’d felt this out- they  _ knew _ what they meant to each other. To Jumin, as well. And that confidence- it was nice, possibly the nicest thing Yoosung had ever experienced.

 

“Okay,” he whispered, not pulling his hand away. “But that was it. Really.” Zen nodded. He turned, glancing away from Yoosung, watching the street, the passers by and the traffic. Yoosung kept silent, watched the way Zen  _ zoned _ while seeming still so focused, before Zen finally said,

 

“It might not have felt like much to you, but it might have been a lot to him.” Yoosung perked up, as Zen looked back at him. “Seven doesn’t spend much time with us.”

 

“...No,” Yoosung agreed.

 

“He doesn’t spend much time with  _ anyone _ , does he?” Yoosung shook his head. “So, it’s safe to assume people don’t touch him often.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Just think on it. Not only does he not have people around, but he doesn’t get physical affection- and then you’re suddenly curled up against him.” Zen’s smile turned to a smirk. “You probably woke something up in him, sweetheart.” Yoosung felt his jaw go slack, before he shook his head.

 

“No. No way.” Another shake. “That doesn’t… I mean…  _ me _ ? I could see if it was you, I mean. Seven’s obviously kinda  _ into _ you. I mean he made that one Twitter bot and…” Yoosung trailed off before he stopped, swallowed thickly. “You think I turned him on?”

 

“Maybe. If not, you at least short circuited his system.” Zen ran his fingers up over the back of Yoosung’s hand, rubbing the top of his exposed wrist now. “Maybe you should see if you can do it again.”

 

“Are you  _ telling _ me to try and sleep with Seven?” Yoosung said it louder than he meant, and a few people sitting at tables around them shot him a glance. Zen was only chuckling though.

 

“I won’t stop you,” he admitted. “I know we haven’t really talked about  _ that _ but… well. I’m up for you living a little. Just be careful- he’s a man like us, I’m sure there’s a wolf in there somewhere.”

 

Yoosung was about to retort, but was cut off when he heard, “Who is a wolf now?” He turned, staring back, just as Zen burst into a full on grin.

 

“Hello baby,” he said, as Jumin walked around Yoosung, took up the empty seat between them. Zen leaned over, kissed Jumin’s cheek, as Jumin tried to glance at him, then back at Yoosung.

 

“What did I miss?”

 

“Yoosung turned Seven on on accident, and Seven panicked.” Zen said it so nonchalantly that Yoosung could only stare, before he jerked his head, looking at Jumin. Jumin was staring at him.

 

“I… I mean… it might not be that! Really! Honest!” He pulled his hand back, holding both up defensively. “We were just on the couch and I was tired and I used his shoulder as a pillow and he freaked out and ran out and didn’t make sense and I’m just confused-” Yoosung cut off, breath running out, and inhaled sharply. He clamped his mouth shut, as both Jumin and Zen simply stared at him.

 

A moment later, and Jumin hummed. He leaned over, pinched Yoosung’s chin and held him still. Yoosung watched him lean in, before his mouth was covering his- the kiss slow, warm, the tip of Jumin’s tongue teasing his lips and making Yoosung’s fingers tremble. When he pulled back he kept his hold on his chin.

 

“Can we blame Luciel?” he asked, “When you do the same thing to us?” Yoosung said nothing, and Zen folded his hands, rested his chin on them.

 

“We can’t. I told him he should see where it goes. Besides, it’d probably be good for Seven.”

 

Jumin nodded, glancing away for a moment. “Maybe…”

 

Yoosung felt short of breath. Were they… were they really  _ okay _ with that? He wasn’t even sure how he  _ felt _ about the idea but…

 

He couldn’t deny, his heart was racing, and it wasn’t unpleasant.

 

*

 

Seven gripped the strap to his laptop bag tightly, taking the stairs at Yoosung’s apartment complex two at a time. He had nearly called him to tell him he couldn’t make it- that  _ work _ had come up and he had to save the world and undercover long buried secrets- but he truthfully  _ loved _ their LOLOL nights. Yoosung was  _ good _ and sure, Seven might have him beat, but barely, if he was honest.

 

But he couldn’t stop thinking about the other night. About Yoosung’s warm cheek and those fingers-

 

About what he’d done in his car, and how he’d wished so badly it had been Yoosung.

 

He paused at Yoosung’s door, swallowing thickly and knocking. He glanced from side to side, out of instinct, but the complex seemed rather quiet. It was late to begin with, but Yoosung had had class in the morning, and his internship at C&R after. It made Seven think tonight would be short- which was alright. Less of a chance that Yoosung might accidentally touch him or-

 

His thoughts cut off when the door opened. Yoosung smiled at him, seemed to be drowning in an oversized sweater, his hair clipped back with multiple colored clips. They made Seven smile.

 

“Hey,” Yoosung said, stepping aside and leaning against the door. Seven stepped in, forcing his voice into that overly cheery cadence.

 

“Hi hi  _ hiya _ ,” he said, as the door shut and he headed straight for Yoosung’s kitchenette table. He settled his laptop bag on it, began opening it and pulling out his computer and various cords. Yoosung’s was already sitting there- an investment as a little reward after he’d started the internship. A new gaming laptop. Seven might have asked how he could afford that and the rent for this apartment- but he was fairly sure Jumin had something to do with how the rent was paid.

 

Seven didn’t ask. He knew it wouldn’t have been something Yoosung  _ asked _ for, and if anything he was just shocked Yoosung wasn’t living with one of his boyfriends already.

 

Thinking about them only made him feel worse over what he’d done, and he shook his head, plugging in his mouse and flopping down in the chair. “I hope you saved some energy,” he teased, as Yoosung pulled up across from him.

 

“I’m ready to go all night,” he said with a grin, and Seven felt his heart jump over the idea of being with him  _ all night _ .

 

*

 

All night didn’t last. A few hours in, and Yoosung had shifted completely, had pulled his chair over right next to Seven and readjusted his laptop. He was leaning over now, watching with his cheek on Seven’s shoulder as Seven, the only remaining  _ living _ member of the raid group, finished off the boss on his own.

 

He was cheering, tired but rather adorable, and Seven could barely concentrate. He couldn’t bring himself to admit that the reason  _ he _ almost died was because, once again, Yoosung’s warm cheek was known through the thin cotton of his tshirt. He was half tempted to put on his hoodie, which was tossed over the back of the chair. Just to have another layer between them,

 

He gripped his mouse tighter as Yoosung yawned, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder. “You’re throwing my arm off,” Seven said defensively, thinking maybe Yoosung would move. Yoosung only sighed louder, turning and nuzzling his shoulder, an arm flopping over him.

 

“Let’s stop,” he mumbled, hiding his face completely. “I’m tired. Come sit on the couch.”

 

“I… I can’t move when you’re all over me,” Seven responded, his voice nearly cracking. His heart was hammering as his character went idle, and he prayed that Yoosung wouldn’t hear it.

 

“Carry me.” Yoosung whined it, sounded almost like a  _ child _ in the most endearing way, and Seven was so sure he was about to die. This was it. The end of it all. The end of the defend of justice and his many adventures- “ _ Please _ .”

 

“You’re too heavy.”

 

“I’m not!” Yoosung finally sat up, some of his bangs falling free of his hair clips. He was pouting. “Zen carries me without a problem.”

 

Seven didn’t doubt that Zen would be holding him up for any number of reasons.

 

“Eat less Honey Buddha chips, and maybe I can carry you.” Seven reached for his laptop, shutting it and pushing his chair back. Yoosung was gawking at him.

 

“Excuse me! You  _ live _ on those things! I eat real meals!” He stood up as Seven did, reaching out and grabbing his hand. Yoosung pushed his sweater up with his own hand, shoving off his belly, as he dragged Seven’s hand over to it. He pressed it against the warm, soft skin, glaring. “ _ See _ ? Look.”

 

Seven stared, his fingers flexing against Yoosung’s belly. He felt like static was crawling up his arm, and suddenly it was so hard to breath. His thumb moved slowly in a tiny circle, and he wanted to touch, wanted to see every inch of skin and know how soft it was against his lips…

 

He jerked his hand back, turning away and heading for the couch quickly. He didn’t say a word, dropping down onto it and curling up towards one arm, trying to fall into himself, become small enough that he could disappear. If he became nothing, then Yoosung couldn’t touch him. And he couldn’t like it.

 

But a moment later Yoosung was flopping down on the couch, remote in hand, clicking the television on. He slid over to Seven, flopping over his legs and sprawling partially on him. Seven tensed, couldn’t  _ help _ it, he wasn’t used to this, and his nerves felt like they were frying, like his skin was crawling but so damn  _ hot _ underneath and-

 

“Why are you so tense?” Yoosung tipped his head back, looking up at Seven. His eyes were so damn  _ pretty _ that for a moment, Seven couldn’t breathe. He choked, turning away and staring towards the kitchen area, all too aware that Yoosung was still watching him. “You don’t like when I touch you?”

 

He had to lie, he  _ had to _ \- but with Yoosung… it was hard. After everything they’d all been through, how he’d hurt him and told him he didn’t matter, that their friendship was temporary… he couldn’t just…

 

“I like it too much,” he admitted, still not looking at him. Because this felt like a betrayal.. He knew Yoosung didn’t have the sort of intentions that the merest of touches made Seven think of. He knew he loved Zen and Jumin and what they had was  _ great _ and Seven wanted to support that endlessly…

 

But he couldn’t turn his brain off.

 

Suddenly Yoosung was moving. Seven felt his weight disappear, and then hands on his shoulder, forcing him to sit up properly. HIs legs unfolded, and Yoosung was suddenly  _ there _ , crawling into his lap and straddling his thighs. He settled in, reached out and got his hands on both of Seven’s shoulders. His weight was exactly what Seven thought it would be- enough to keep him grounded, even as his mind tried to fly sky high. He felt himself trembling and curled his toes to try and stop it.

 

Yoosung inclined his head, seeming to stupid him, his mind working behind violet eyes. Seven might have called him naive once, but that felt  _ wrong _ now. Like Yoosung had grown up more, like he knew things he didn’t once know-

 

“I don’t think you like it too much,” he admitted, leaning a little closer. “In fact… I think you like it just right.” He smiled, the smallest quirk of his lips, before he edged even closer. Seven felt his breath on his mouth, a warm gentle puff of air, and everything stopped.

 

The moment his lips touched Seven’s, everything suddenly  _ exploded _ . Time tore in half and Seven was so sure the existence of  _ all _ simply ceased. Yoosung’s mouth was soft and warm and it was moving so gently, so subtly against his own. He didn’t know what to do, couldn’t even move- but Yoosung seemed content to kiss him gently without response. His fingers tightened against Seven’s shoulders, and he shifted, moving along his lap.

 

“Kiss me back,” he breathed against Seven’s mouth. And Seven- he was so sure he lost complete control of his body. His arms wound tightly around Yoosung, keeping him close as he kissed like he was starving- kissed in ways he had only dreamed of. His mouth was clumsy but Yoosung didn’t seem to care- he groaned against his lips and pushed harder, kissed fiercer. Seven tugged at his sweater as Yoosung pinched his lip between his teeth, sucking at it and tugging before breaking off. His breath still fell against Seven’s now wet mouth as he stared with dilated eyes, pupils blown like he  _ needed _ something, everything.

 

Seven didn’t know what to say. His mouth was on fire, burning his lips to ash, searing his tongue and teeth and gums. If he breathed he’s swallow it, choke on the smoke. He’d  _ die _ because Yoosung was  _ touching him _ and no one had touched him in so long-

 

Yoosung let go of his shoulders, reached up with both hands and got them in his hair. His fingers tangled strands around them, before he was tugging Seven in, devouring his mouth like a starving child. Seven shuddered, dug his blunt nails into Yoosung’s sweater, as Yoosung continued to grind against his lap. His jeans  _ hurt _ with how confining they were- and Seven hadn’t even realized until Yoosung was moving again that he was hard. He was so caught up in the places Yoosung  _ was _ touching him, that he could forget every other bit of his body even existed.

 

Yoosung pressed his tongue to Seven’s lips, dragged it along them, and Seven gasped, tipped his head back and let Yoosung press inside. He sucked at the muscle, let it push against the points of his teeth, before Yoosung settled  _ right _ over the very obvious shape of his cock, straining in his jeans. Yoosung slowed, paused, and carefully pulled back, lips glistening. Seven stared, watched that mouth curve into something devious-

 

And then Yoosung was pulling away and it was  _ agony _ to lose that heat and weight. But he was sliding off, falling down to the floor and grasping Seven’s knees, forcing them apart. Seven leaned forward slightly, stared down, as Yoosung gave them a squeeze.

 

“I… wanna do something,” he admitted, biting at his cherry-kissed lip. “If you’re okay with it.”

 

Seven  _ should have said no _ . There felt like a hundred- no, a thousand reasons as to why. But Yoosung was offering to touch and to do  _ lord only knew what _ , and Seven was endlessly curious by nature-

 

“ _ Please _ ,” he croaked out, knowing there was never a reality where his response was different. Yoosung’s smile turned genuine, and he leaned forward, pushed at Seven’s tshirt. He exposed about two inches of his belly and kissed gently, his mouth still soft and warm. Seven leaned back, baring his skin, gasping as every muscle in his abdomen flexed. Yoosung giggled, felt it beneath his mouth as he kissed down, easing his way to the hem of Seven’s jeans.

 

Seven closed his eyes, couldn’t  _ watch _ because that was just too much for his senses. It was hard enough that he could  _ feel  _ Yoosung, could hear the sound of his mouth moving. Two sense were enough to nearly kill him- three  _ would _ .

 

Deft fingers made quick work of his jean’s fastenings, as he ha thought. And then Yoosung’s fingers were tracing the shape of his cock, squeezing it. Seven’s hips lifted, pushing towards him, and Yoosung hummed but didn’t speak. Seven squeezed his eyes tighter as he felt his underwear being tugged, and then cool air rushing to meet his rapidly freed cock. He fisted his hands against his thighs, felt Yoosung wrap a hand around it- and then that sweet mouth kissing the head gently.

 

His mouth dragged down along the underside, until it met his fist. Yoosung sucked gently, before moving back up- and then it was wet, velvet heat, and Seven was gasping, hips jerking and eyes squeezing shut so tightly his temples ached. He shook as Yoosung sucked, his hand moving along his shaft, the other squeezing his thigh now, close to his fist.

 

Seven’s mind was in agony. It was tearing apart and desperately trying to reknit itself- it was bliss and the end and he was so sure he was dying. He couldn’t  _ remember _ the last intimate touch he’d had, and there had been so few. He felt his muscles seizing up, going so tight he might burst- and then Yoosung’s tongue was swirling around his cockhead, and Seven couldn’t  _ help _ himself.

 

He groaned, hips stuttering forward, and felt all the need and desire and agony rushing from his body, white hot into Yoosung’s mouth. Yoosung made a little surprised sound, but didn’t pull away, sucked gently until Seven was relaxing, sagging back against the cuch. Vaguely, he was aware when the heat was gone, as he opened his eyes, blinked and stared up at the ceiling. Everything was blurry, filmed in liquid, and it was only when Seven’s underwear were being tugged back up that he realized there were tears on his eyes.

 

The sound of a zipper, and then Yoosung was climbing into his lap, running his hands along his chest. Seven tipped his head down, blinked away the tears and stared at him.

 

Yoosung was smiling, so damn wide and sweet it made Seven’s entire chest ache. “Hey,” Yoosung whispered, hands roaming up to his shoulders, and then snaking around his neck. “You still in there?” Seven swallowed and nodded, and Yoosung kept that smile. “That was quick.”

 

Seven’s cheeks flushed, and he glanced away. Yoosung only chuckled, leaned in and smacked a big kiss to his warm cheek.

 

“S’okay though,” he whispered, “does things for a boy’s ego.” He paused, then added, “besides… it’s probably been a while, right?”

 

Seven glanced back at him, and Yoosung… he wasn’t judging him. His eyes were open and honest, that smile was true- and Seven could only get his arms around Yoosung, to squeeze him tightly as he buried his face into his neck and simply breathed.

 

As he tried to come down from the sort of high that left him unsure he could ever connect with his body again.

 

*

 

Yoosung sighed, squirming in his bed. He had his pajama pants still tangled around one ankle, his blanket brushing against his bare legs. One hand was between his legs, index and ring finger pressed to his lips so his middle finger could rub along his clit. He squeezed his eyes shut, shivering, so damn wet he wondered if he’d get his sheets dirty.

 

If he licked his lips, he could still taste Seven. With his eyes closed he could fool himself into thinking he was still there. That he hadn’t gone home.

 

Yoosung had asked him to stay. He’d whispered it into his ear and nuzzled his neck and thought maybe Seven would curl up in bed with him. That he’d lock an arm around his waist and keep him firm to his chest while he touched him. It was something Jumin seemed to love to do- to pull Yoosung apart right before he slept.

 

A small groan, before Yoosung’s thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing on his nightstand. Without stopping he blindly reached for his phone, holding it up and squinting at the name, before smiling. He unlocked it, offering a breathy, “hi,” as his middle finger dipped lower, pressed against his entrance but not inside, and came away soaked.

 

There was a chuckle, and then- “I caught you at a good time, honey?” Zen’s voice was soft in the most perfect way, had Yoosung shuddering, his thighs tightening almost closed against his hand.

 

“Y-yeah,” he managed, swallowing thickly. His belly was tight but he slowed the movement of his finger, ot wanting to come just yet.

 

“What got you so worked up?” he asked, and Yoosung licked his lips. Honesty?

 

“I sucked Seven’s dick.”

 

Always honesty.

 

Zen was quiet for a moment, and for a single, aching second, Yoosung wondered if he’d been  _ wrong _ . But then another chuckle, and, “And you're this worked up? Is this how you get when my cock’s in your mouth?” Yoosung whined, an Zen  _ tsk’d _ . “Maybe I should be jealous. Shame I’m not there- I know how to make you miss me.”

 

Yoosung worried the tender inside of his cheek. His clit was aching, and even the slightest brush of his finger was making his toes curl. He didn’t usually hold off like this- but somehow that feeling of teetering on the edge was so damn  _ thrilling _ now.

 

“Maybe if I ate that pretty pussy of yours…” Zen trailed off, and Yoosung knew the sort of wicked grin he’d sport. He moaned, pushing hard against his clit, hips rocking- and he was gone without even meaning it. He cried out, arching up as he worked himself through his orgasm- even dropped his phone against his pillow in favor of reaching up and tugging at his own hair.

 

When it was finally subsiding and he could  _ see _ again, Yoosung went limp, fumbling for his phone and picking it up. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “I dropped my phone.”

 

“It’s okay sweetheart.” There was a pause, before Zen asked, “Did you really…”

 

Yoosung hummed, nodding. “I did. It’s… it’s okay, right? I mean, you encouraged me and Jumin didn’t seem to have any complaints…” Yoosung bit his lip. “I don’t want to make either of you  _ mad _ . You know I love you- the both of you-”

 

“Yoosung, stop. It’s okay.” Zen’s voice was soft again, lovely in every single way. “Really. I did encourage you, and I wouldn’t have if I’d had a problem with it.” Yoosung nodded, even though Zen couldn’t see it. “I love you too. But Yoosung?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Tell Jumin in person. You know he’s…  _ possessive _ .” Yoosung laughed, snorted it out. Zen had to be grinning harder. “He’ll understand better. But he won’t be mad.”

 

“You’re right.” And the thing was, Zen truly was. Yoosung didn’t doubt it.

 

“I always am.”

 

“And so  _ modest _ .” Zen laughed, and Yoosung rolled over, curling up on himself, not caring that he was half naked. “Read me some lines? I want to fall asleep to your voice.”

 

“Anything you want, Yoosung.” And he didn’t doubt it was truly  _ anything _ .

 

*

 

Seven pressed his face into his pillow, sucking in a breath and feeling like he was suffocating.

 

How could he have  _ done _ that?

 

How could he- how could he dream of letting Yoosung touch him, when he  _ knew _ what Yoosung had with Zen and Jumin? How could he betray his friends like that? How could he dare to think he was on the sort of level they were- that he  _ deserved _ Yoosung’s fingers, his mouth, those pretty eyes?

 

A broken sound escaped him and he opened his mouth, dug his teeth into his pillow. God, had anyone ever felt as good as Yoosung had? Had anyone ever touched him and seemed to  _ want _ to that badly? Had there ever been a mouth that kissed him like that?

 

Had anyone ever looked at him, actually  _ seen _ him- and still wanted to touch?

 

He choked on a sob, squeezing his eyes shut. They stung, hot, the corners wet- and he was trash. Garbage. Low and worthless and meaningless and  _ broken and ugly _ . Who was he to put himself into someone’s happiness like he did? If he cared about Yoosung, truly  _ cared _ , he would have pushed him away. Would have told him to want the greatness he had-

 

Would have chased him back into Zen and Jumin’s embraces.

 

But  _ god _ , Yoosung was just… he was innocent and yet so far  _ from _ it. Sweet to look at and perfect to imagine and his laugh made Seven’s belly go to knots. His eyes made Seven wish he could peel himself naked down to his bones, show him the marrow within and hope that Yoosung might like the secrets inside him.

 

Yoosung made his heart beat like a heart attack, made him think he was dying and yet so sure he had never lived as much as he did, in these moments. Yoosung made him ache and Yoosung made him warm.

 

And he’d had him and he was the  _ lowest _ of the low for it.

 

He rolled onto his back, dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. They ground in until he was seeing bursts against his eyelids- came away wet from the tears spilling at the corners of his eyes.

 

He was trying so hard to let everyone in. To let himself believe he could have this, have his friends, have a life and a  _ family _ . But it felt as if in a single night, he had kicked all hope of that right in the ribs.

 

As if, as always, he had fucked it all up.

 

*

 

“I could take this to Mr. Han,” Jaehee said, as Yoosung took both the small stack of files she was holding and the small white porcelain cup and saucer. He held the files to his chest, balancing the espress carefully.

 

“I know. But I’d like to sneak in for a minute.” Yoosung smiled, and Jaehee’s eyes softened as she shook her head.

 

“Very well. Do not distract him long- that will only lead to me having to rearrange his schedule.” Yoosung nodded, and she reached out, ruffled some of his hair. “And have him straighten your tie. You did a horrible job tying it.”

 

“Hey- I’m trying!” His cheeks tinged pink, and Jaehee shook her head, walking off past him to the click of her kitten heels, sure to be getting a head start on whatever pile of work Yoosung knew she had to have. He turned, hurrying off down the hallway. He’d caught her thankfully just before she’d knocked on Jumin’s door- which proved difficult with his hands full. Yoosung managed to get the files to his chest, pinned by the arm holding the espresso, and knocked. There was silence for a solid twenty seconds, before he finally heard  _ come in _ , and opened the door.

 

Jumin didn’t look up from the documents sprawled on his desk. There was a pile of them set off by his laptop, and the pen his father had given him was glinting as he moved, obviously signing his name. “I hope you have not brought me more documents needing signatures, assistant Kang,” he said, as Yoosung shut the door with his foot and shifted the files back to his other arm. “Also, where do we stand on that proposal I gave you the other night?”

 

“You mean that cat stationary one?” Jumin’s eyes jerked up at the sound of Yoosung’s voice, his hand stilling. He stared at him, and Yoosung cracked a smile, walking over. He set the espresso down first, before adding the files next to them. “That one you were ranting about at two in the morning when you couldn’t sleep? Where you wanted people to special order it with little stamps of their cat’s own paw print?”

 

The quirk in Yoosung’s lip had to be enough to tell Jumin he was teasing him. Except he wasn’t lying.

 

“What are you doing here?” Jumin asked, straightening up. He leaned back in his chair, and Yoosung took it upon himself to circle the desk, to force his chair back and crawl right up into his lap. He straddled him easily, gripping the arms of the chair.

 

“What? Didn’t miss me?” Jumin sighed, but the sound ended in the faintest of chuckles, his lips quirking into a little smirk. His hands reached out, gripped Yoosung’s tie and began to straighten it, tightening it slightly.

 

“Did you dress in the dark?” he asked, and Yoosung knew that was his silent  _ of course _ . He knew how to read Jumin now. Was learning still but could at least understand the vague silent emotions he meant but never spoke.

 

“Maybe I just wanted you to fix it.” Yoosung leaned in, pecked Jumin’s cheek sweetly. “Can I tell you something?”

 

“If I say no, it will not stop you.”

 

Yoosung snorted. “I love you,” he whispered, almost sing-song like. Another peck to Jumin’s cheek. Jumin sighed, but his arms moved around Yoosung, kept him close. 

 

“I am well aware.”

 

“Well, I don’t want you to forget.” Another kiss, this time to his jawline. “And uh… well. I did something the other night.”

 

“Tell me you slept like a responsible adult.”

 

Yoosung huffed, leaning back. “This coming from the guy who can’t sleep on too many nights to count. No. I mean… with someone.” Jumin eyed him, almost suspicious now- and Yoosung knew he couldn’t just dance around the subject. “I might have… given Seven a blowjob.”

 

Jumin was silent. So much so that Yoosung wondered if he was even  _ breathing _ . His eyes were serious, almost terrifyingly so, and Yoosung wondered if he had taken Jumin’s subtle encouragement while Zen had teased him too far-

 

But then Jumin’s arms were tightening around him and he was pulling him in. Yoosung gave a little surprised squeak, thudding against his chest, his chin resting on Jumin’s shoulder. “You love me,” Jumin repeated, as Yoosung reached for his biceps, squeezing gently.

 

“I do.”

 

“You will return to me. To my bed.”

 

“ _ Always _ .”

 

“Zen is aware?” Yoosung nodded. “And he…”

 

“Teased me like you’d expect.” One of Jumin’s hands sprawled on Yoosung’s back.

 

“How do you feel for Luciel?”

 

Yoosung swallowed. “I dunno. I mean. I like him. We have so much  _ fun _ . And I’m attracted to him. But… I mean. I don’t love him…  _ yet _ .” The last word was quiet, as Yoosung turned, his breath tickling Jumin’s ear. “I love you. I love Zen. It takes  _ time _ . But… if you want to know how I really feel about Seven… I guess I want to give him some sort of chance at  _ something _ .”

 

Yoosung didn’t know if he meant a relationship, if he meant a few tumbles in his bed- he just knew he wanted to be open to it. And he wanted to be honest with Jumin.

 

The hand on his back stroked slowly, soothing. “Thank you for your honesty.” Jumin gave him a firm squeeze, the sort of embrace that made Yoosung’s heart skip a beat. “I want your happiness. Do as you see fit. But…” there was a pause, before Jumin’s voice returned, quiet and the sort of eerie calm that made Yoosung’s spine prickle. “Never stop loving me.”

 

Yoosung smiled, nuzzling into Jumin’s neck. “Never,” he agreed, his lips brushing Jumin’s pulse as he spoke. “You can’t get rid of me now.”

 

Jumin chuckled, and Yoosung thought this was enough, for now. He couldn’t ask for much more when he wasn’t even sure what he wanted- but the fact that Jumin, like Zen, seemed content with his exploration of his feelings and desires, when it came to Seven, was more than enough to remind him of how lucky he truly was.

 

*

 

Seven’s fingers twitched. He was trying to work but it was hard to focus. He chewed at his lip, glancing at the clock on his computer. Late- but not too late.

 

He shouldn’t have called.

 

He shouldn’t have  _ asked _ .

 

Yoosung would be there. Soon. Seven had spent days not speaking to him- or  _ anyone _ . He’d worked and he’d built whatever came to mind- the singing robot lizard was by far his favorite of the bunch- but he didn’t open the messenger or answer his texts or even the one call he’s gotten from Yoosung.

 

Until he  _ broke _ , because he needed to clear this up. Needed to know what he had done- that it was forgivable. Needed to know if Yoosung had told his boyfriends- if they hated him or if they at least understood how he could be so weak.

 

Needed to know that Yoosung didn’t regret it all.

 

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. He raked his hands through his hair, tugging at it, wondering if maybe Yoosung was running late and he could call this off. Disappearing might have been easier than facing this- but his security system was blinking, and he could see Yoosung on his CCTV, waving his arms at the gate and looking flustered. He slumped forward, fingers moving over the keys- and the security system was disarming, the door opening. He watched Yoosung open the gate, then turned back to set a timer for the system to come back online- sixty seconds was more than enough.

 

He could hear the front door as it slammed shut, the rustling of Yoosung as he kicked off his sneakers. “Seven?” he called, and Seven inhaled slowly, told himself to put on that  _ smile _ and be who he was expected to be.

 

Just don’t let Yoosung’s fingers ever find the secrets of his skin again- and he could fake his way through this.

 

“You’re  _ laaate _ ,” he said, spinning in his chair as Yoosung hopped down the few short stairs to his living area. He had a small backpack slung over his shoulders, his cheeks tinged with color from the night chill. “You get caught up in boyfriend heaven?”

 

“Dinner ran over,” he admitted, looking around the room. Seven hadn’t been able to bring himself to clean- there was an old pair of jeans on the floor, empty soda cans, crumpled chip bags… “Jumin wanted wine and then spent, I swear,  _ twenty minutes _ picking one.”

 

“You went to dinner with your  _ rich boyfriend _ in jeans?” Yoosung shrugged a shoulder, and he was precious and innocent and everything sweet and pure, for just a moment, when he smiled.

 

“Why not? It wasn’t that fancy of a restaurant. I don’t really like those all that much, they just feel… weird.”

 

Seven nodded, hands running along the arms of his chair. Unsure what to do, where to go with himself- he’d invited Yoosung over but he hadn’t said  _ why _ . Hadn’t specified a night of games… and he didn’t know if he should try to  _ ask _ or dance around the subject…

 

“I’m shocked he even let you go,” Seven joked- and the innocence melted right from Yoosung’s face. His eyes flashed to something that Seven  _ knew _ was arousal, but he wasn’t sure if he could handle  _ admitting _ that.

 

“He didn’t want to,” Yoosung admitted, eyes flicking over Seven. Yoosung let his bag slid off his shoulder, and it fell to the floor with a soft  _ thud _ . “Especially knowing where I was going- who I’d be with.” He sauntered over- it was the only word Seven could think of, dream of, with the way Yoosung’s hips were moving. The gentle curves seemed mesmerizing- and god, Seven wondered if that  _ bothered _ Yoosung?

 

He’d never seemed annoyed by his body before…

 

Yoosung leaned forward, gripping at Seven’s tshirt collar with one hand, the other grasping the arm of the chair. “Jumin’s not the best at sharing,” he admitted, “Zen get’s away with it because Jumin gets him too. But… you’re a different story.” Yoosung leaned a little closer, cocked his head. “Good thing I get what I want. Good thing I’ve got Jumin around my finger.”

 

The smirk he boasted was obscene, and Seven felt his cock throbbing over it- swelling to half mast with Yoosung barely touching him. “Yoosung…” he managed, his voice cracking and hoarse, and that smirk grew.

 

“I could have you around my finger too…” He didn’t give Seven the chance to speak, he jerked him closer by his collar, crashed their lips together. The kiss was explosive, a burst of heat and desperate movements- Yoosung kissing like he was starving, like Seven’s tongue held a feast. Seven groaned, reached up and got his hands on Yoosung’s face, and Yoosung gave a little sigh into his mouth, before his tongue was pushing in, sliding along Seven’s. He tasted like w hint of wine, this mix of flavors from his dinner that Seven could have pulled apart if he wanted to-

 

But his brain was failing him. His  _ existence _ was failing him.

 

Yoosung pulled back, but not without dragging his teeth along Seven’s lip. “I want to play,” he whispered, arching slightly, raising his ass like his body was responding to the mere idea. “Will you play with me?”

 

Seven swallowed, nearly gasping for breath. He should say no. He should demand that Yoosung explain. He should apologize for being the garbage he felt he was.

 

But… “Please,” he croaked, like he was broken on Yoosung’s couch all over again. Because Yoosung had touched and it had blown his mind and he knew he was lost, gone-

 

Doomed to repeat this in an endless cycle.

 

Yoosung smiled. He pulled back, straightening up and jerking Seven out of his chair. He spun them, reaching down and popping the button on his jeans. “Game number one,” he said, dragging the zipper down and wriggling his jeans along his hips, showing off the waistband to his briefs. “Make me come with just your mouth.”

 

His fingers hooked into his briefs as well, dragging everything down his thighs. He flopped back into the chair, squirming out of his clothing until it fell onto the floor in a pile. Yoosung tipped his head back, glancing down as he spread his thighs, and Seven felt his legs shaking.

 

“C’mon Seven,” he whispered, rolling his hips- and it was obscene and beautiful, and Seven was falling to his knees. It hurt but he didn’t even wince, only leaned forward, pressed his mouth to Yoosung’s belly. Yoosung sighed, hands sliding along the chair’s arms as Seven kissed slowly. He fisted his own hands, kept them against his thighs because they were  _ shaking _ so badly, as his nose traced along Yoosung’s navel, before his glasses slid down, bumped him. Yoosung glanced down, gave a breathy laugh, before he reached for them, slid them from Seven’s face carefully. He set them on the desk, before Seven turned, rubbed his cheek along Yoosung’s thigh- all soft skin and shockingly fine hair. His exhale was so close to Yoosung’s cunt that the blond was shivering, and Seven could  _ smell _ how badly he wanted him.

 

Seven leaned closer, carefully dragged his tongue along Yoosung’s lips. He hadn’t… he hadn’t done this before. This was  _ new _ and he had no idea what he should be doing or how Yoosung liked it or-

 

But Yoosung sighed, tipping his head back again. And with the gentlest pressure from Seven’s tongue, it was slipping past into pure wet heat, dragging up until it pressed to his swollen clit. Seven didn’t have any sort of taste to compare him to- but he didn’t dislike it, and found that when he pressed closer, moving his tongue clumsily over Yoosung’s clit, that his cock was twitching.

 

Yoosung whimpered, raising his hips, as Seven tried to find a rhythm. It was hard when he couldn’t keep his breathing steady, when he had unfisted his hands and was dragging them along his thighs, his nails scraping along denim. He whined, tongue dipping down away from Yoosung’s clit and making him huff, groan.

 

Yoosung reached down, buried his hands in Seven’s hair and held him still. Seven gasped, squeezed his eyes shut as Yoosung ground against his mouth, rubbed along his moving tongue the way he wanted. And the moan he let it out- Seven swore he’d come, in that moment. That that was all he needed.

 

“Seven- fuck,  _ fuck _ ,” Yoosung groaned, riding his tongue and pulling at his hair until Seven’s scalp burned. His jaw was beginning to ache, but he didn’t want to stop, not when Yoosung had asked something of him. Not when he had to satisfy, to prove he deserved to touch him-

 

His thoughts broke when Yoosung howled his name, jerking up hard against his mouth. His hips lost all rhythm as he ground desperately against him, riding out his orgasm in long waves. Seven’s breath rushed from his nose, hit skin and the dark hair that didn’t match that atop Yoosung’s head, before Yoosung slumped back, his fingers slowly relaxing in Seven’s hair.

 

Seven glanced up, could see Yoosung even if he was slightly out of focus. He was panting, his eyes half lidded- looking  _ satisfied _ . “You have… potential…” he whispered, when he finally let go of Seven’s hair completely. Seven eased back, tilting his head up, aware that his mouth was smeared wet. Yoosung shifted, leaned forward and rubbed his fingers along Seven’s cheek. “I could teach you exactly what I like- Jumin learned. You can too.”

 

Seven felt his chest twisting up over that- but before he could even  _ speak _ , Yoosung was continuing.

 

“If you ever want a good rant, ask Zen exactly how to eat my pussy. You’ll be up all night.” He flashed a grin, and Seven swallowed.

 

“Are you… alright saying that?” Yoosung quirked a brow, before he let go, leaning back in Seven’s chair and  _ laughing _ .

 

“What?  _ Pussy _ ?” He full on  _ grinned _ . “It doesn’t bother me. You wanna know what Zen likes to say?”

 

Seven nodded because he  _ did _ .

 

“He says I have the  _ prettiest pussy _ ever.” He shimmied his shoulders a little, looking so damn proud of himself that Seven bit back a groan. “Just because I do doesn’t mean I’m any less of a  _ man _ . I know that. I know anyone who cares about me does too.” He straightened up again, his tshirt falling and covering most of him. “I’m proud of my body. I like how it can make me feel. It doesn’t change who I am.”

 

Seven nodded- and truthfully,  _ that _ was such a part of how much he adored Yoosung. This endless confidence in who he was now.

 

Seven envied it.

 

Seven licked his lips, got a  _ burst _ because Yoosung’s come was still there, and whimpered. Yoosung pushed the chair back, standing up over that. Leaving his jeans and underwear on the floor, he walked over to his back, bending over and giving Seven a sinful view of his ass as he grabbed it. “I think you should fuck me,” he said, straightening up and glancing back. He winked, and Seven was scrambling up, nearly tripping over the chair. His fumbled steps had Yoosung laughing. “God, don’t  _ die _ or anything.”

 

Seven paused a step away, nodding, and Yoosung settled his free hand on his hip.

 

“I don’t know where your bedroom is. First time’s on a  _ real _ bed. Maybe we can go for another round out here if we’re up for it.” Seven swore he was going to choke on his tongue- and the turmoil in his chest, his belly, it was being buried because Yoosung wanted to touch him, wanted to  _ be _ touched by him. Was giving him this chance and he didn’t know how to say no-

 

He didn’t want to. He didn’t ever want to have to.

 

Yoosung reached back, and Seven took another step towards him. He took his hand, and Yoosung laced their fingers together, gave him a squeeze. “Lead the way,  _ defender of justice _ .” His tone was teasing but light, happy, and Seven squeezed his hand back, hurrying past him. He nearly dragged Yoosung through his home, until he was pushing his bedroom door open and spilling in. Yoosung was laughing, hair falling from his pins and into his face as Seven stopped, turning around.

 

He smiled because Yoosung looked  _ happy _ , and he dared to let himself believe the lie that he could have this. Just for this moment. Just one night- before he had to give it up, to face reality and what he was truly doing.

 

“You’re overdressed,” Yoosung said, dropping his bag on the bed. He placed his hands on his hips, his tshirt long enough to just dust his thighs, to hide  _ just _ enough that Seven hated it. Seven fumbled, pulling his tshirt off, tossing it to the floor, before he started attempting to remove his jeans. His fingers slipped a few times, and he ended up with everything rucked down near his knees, and Yoosung giggling more, nearly snorting. “You’re such a mess,” he said, eyes moving down Seven’s belly and pausing. “Get on the bed. On your back.”

 

Seven  _ listened _ , crawling up onto his bed and awkwardly kicking his clothing off. He laid down, suddenly aware of how hard he was- and that it was blatant, in this position.

 

Yoosung stared for a moment, before he licked his lips and flipped his bag open, digging in. He pulled a little box out, tearing it open, before pulling a strand of packets out. He tore one off and tossed it to Seven. It landed on his chest, and Seven fumbled, lifting the little foil wrapper.

 

“On,” Yoosung said, and Seven sat up, tearing open the condom wrapper. “I’d work you up a bit- but I remember what happened when I sucked you off. Short fuse.” He kept his smirk, and Seven felt his cheeks burning.

 

And because Yoosung made him honest- “I’m not used to being touched.”

 

He hadn’t  _ meant _ to admit it- but it was hard to still his tongue around the blond.

 

Yoosung’s smirk fell away slightly. He watched Seven rolling the condom on, and Seven pretended he couldn’t feel his eyes. When he was done he flopped back down, felt the bed dipping as Yoosung crawled back on. Yoosung swung a leg over him, settled on his belly and smiled down at him. “Thanks for letting me,” he whispered, and Seven stared up. “...Touch you.”

 

His heart jerked up into his throat, pounding and choking him, as Yoosung smiled. He kept that smile as he reached back, wrapped a hand around Seven’s cock and held it steady. He lifted up, carefully shifting his hips back, letting the tip rub between his lips. He bit at his lip, looked like he was concentrating-

 

And while Seven’s body wanted to be buried inside him, he was fixated on that look. Fixated on the color to Yoosung’s cheeks and the haze in his eyes. Fixated on the fact that he was ethereal and Seven felt  _ helpless _ .

 

When he did ease down though, slowly, Seven lost his breath. He groaned, rubbed his hands along the sheets and fought the urge to buck up. Yoosung bit at his lips harder, stopping when Seven was completely inside him, when he was resting his weight down against him.

 

“I don’t,” he breathed, his mouth falling open. “Don’t expect you to last- that’s okay. This…” he lifted himself up slowly, made Seven’s breath hitch. “It’s for  _ you _ .”

 

Seven’s mouth fell open as Yoosung eased back down. He was moving slowly, as he leaned forward, planted his hands on Seven’s chest to balance himself, give himself more lift with his hips. He was staring at him, pretty eyes and kissable mouth and his soul right there, laced into his irises.

 

He was staring at Seven liked he trusted him. Like he cared.

 

Like he could love.

 

Seven shivered, arching up as his body sparked, meeting Yoosung’s movement. Yoosung gasped, flexed his fingers and gently dug his nails into Seven’s bare chest. Seven reached up, gripped at Yoosung’s forearms, mouth falling open like he wanted to speak, but the words were choked, garbled in his throat and around his tongue.

 

Yoosung’s eyes went wide, before he was pulling back, lifting up. He grabbed at his tshirt, tugged it up over his head and tossed it away as his hips ground down, rocking in this perfect circular rhythm. Seven took him in, the hair falling into his face, his slim build-

 

The scars, along his chest.

 

And he was moving, before he meant to. Sitting up and hooking an arm around Yoosung’s waist, to keep him from falling. Yoosung gave a surprised little noise, as Seven moved to grasp his hands under Yoosung’s arms, thumbs pressing just below his scars. He dipped his mouth, mouthed at one as Yoosung arched back, bared himself. He gasped, as Seven dragged his tongue along it, before he sucked at the discolored skin, had Yoosung whining.

 

“F-fuck,” he stuttered, Yoosung’s hips beginning to lose their rhythm.

 

“You’re an angel,” Seven whispered, felt open and honest beneath Yoosung. Swore he was holy. He glanced up, and Yoosung got his arms around his neck, dug his nails into his back. Seven found his mouth, kissed him in that clumsy and wanting way, as Yoosung moved faster, breathing quickly through his nose. Seven had to squeeze his eyes shut- couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe-

 

Not with Yoosung in his arms, not with the way his body was on fire, with how tight each muscle was pulling. Not with the way his chest ached and he wanted to scream because he never wanted to let Yoosung go. Wanted to drag these seconds into minutes, hours, weeks,  _ years _ .

 

Wanted lifetimes and knew he had  _ moments _ .

 

He pressed his tongue into Yoosung’s mouth, let him suck at it as he rode him. His cock was throbbing, and he swore he’d never been this hard in his entire life. Yoosung shivered, before he broke the kiss, dropped his head and clung to Seven, his face pressed to his neck. Each breath was raspy, and Seven swore there were broken sobs-

 

Until he realized  _ he _ was making them. He barely had a moment to take that in, before he was finally letting go, was coming and clinging to Yoosung and letting him ride him through it. He swore his body was pull of locusts, buzzing and humming and screaming, vibrating to frequences no one could hear or feel besides the two of them.

 

Yoosung began to slow, as the waves ebbed for Seven- until he had paused, was simply keeping him inside his body, panting against his pulse. Seven continued to cling to him- didn’t want to let him go. He felt Yoosung’s mouth, dragging against his neck, before, “You should lay down?”

 

Seven thought to ask why, before he realized he was shaking. He swallowed thickly, forcing himself to let go of Yoosung. He flopped back, sprawled his arms out and stared up at the ceiling, panting gently. He felt Yoosung shifting, missed the soft little smile he offered, before he was climbing off. The loss of that feeling made Seven choke down a whine.

 

“Shh,” Yoosung hushed, peeling the condom off him and tying it off. He tossed it towards the discarded wrapper, before he stretched out, tossing an arm over Seven’s chest and snuggling up. He settled his cheek against him, and Seven curled a single arm around him, holding him closer. 

 

“You-”

 

“You already got me off,” Yoosung whispered, closing his eyes. “Besides, I like the buzz of being  _ worked up _ . It’ll make me want you more later.”

 

“...Later?” Yoosung lifted his head, opening his eyes and looking at Seven.

 

“Yeah, later. Unless…” his smile fell away. “Unless you don’t want to… again.”

 

Seven swallowed, his tongue feeling thick, heavy. And he wanted to,  _ of course he did _ , but- “Yoosung… what about Jumin. Zen. I… we… we can’t…”

 

Yoosung’s eyes softened. He hooked a leg up over Seven’s, reaching up and brushing his fingers along his cheek. “Did you think I didn’t tell them?” Seven averted his eyes, and Yoosung frowned. “Seven… hey.  _ Look at me _ . Did you think this wasn’t okay?”

 

“It crossed my mind.” Yoosung’s frown grew.

 

“That means it  _ more _ than crossed your mind. Hey, don’t… don’t think like that. They  _ know _ . I wouldn’t have even started anything if they weren’t okay with it. That’s not how this works. They know what we did- they know what I wanted, coming over. And they are okay with it.”

 

Seven glanced back, and Yoosung sat up. He reached down, and Seven grasped his hands, sat up with his help. Yoosung brushed some of his own hair back, behind his ear.

 

“Did you feel bad this whole time?” More silence- and Yoosung looked crushed, in those gorgeous eyes. It made Seven hate himself. “Seven- Luciel. I… I’m  _ sorry _ . I didn’t realize… I thought you… you know, would’ve figured it was okay.”

 

“It’s not ever okay to touch me,” he blurted, and with the way Yoosung’s eyes went wide, he had to look away. “It’s not good to get that close to me-”

 

“ _ Stop _ . I thought… you were past that.” Yoosung reached up, cupped Seven’s face gently in his hands. He forced him to look down. “I touch you because I  _ want _ to. You deserve it. You deserve to feel good. And being close to you… it’s good for me. It’s what I want. I’m not in danger, my  _ relationship _ with my boyfriends isn’t in danger. I… I  _ like _ you.” Yoosung looked away, and he was  _ blushing _ . Seven felt his heart beat skip, before he swore his heart stopped, only to kickstart itself so bad it  _ hurt _ .

 

“You… like me?” Yoosung nodded, still looking away. He seemed impossibly young, in that moment. Seven smiled, until it hurt, until he was grinning, and he reached up, covered Yoosung’s hands with his own.

 

“I don’t know what this could be,” he admitted, “maybe we’ll just… fuck and then be done. Go back to gaming and eating so many chips we get stomach aches. Or maybe… I don’t know…” Yoosung sighed, turning his eyes back to Seven. “But I want to find out.”

 

Seven kept smiling. He didn’t have words. And maybe there was a part of him still not believing this- but his heart knew Yoosung wouldn’t just  _ lie _ .

 

He trusted him.

 

He never wanted to stop trusting him.

 

“Stop grinning like that,” Yoosung said, pouting a little. “ _ Dork _ .” He let go of Seven’s cheeks, flicked his forehead, and Seven only grinned more. He got his arms around Yoosung, tackled him down to the bed and pinned him down, until their feet were kicking into the pillows. Yoosung gasped, squirming, before he started laughing, pressing a kiss to Seven’s cheek. “Tell me you want to find out too.”

 

Seven kissed the tip of his nose, and for the first time since he felt that initial warmth from Yoosung’s cheek, said something that felt  _ right _ .

 

“I do.” The bridge of his nose now, as Yoosung’s face scrunched up. “More than anything.” His voice was calm but happy, and when he pulled back, Yoosung was smiling at him.

 

He hoped he wouldn’t ever stop smiling like that.

**Author's Note:**

> I finished Seven's route and the secret endings the same day but prior to finishing this, and decided I needed some damn hope.


End file.
